Kaleidoscope
by zobawbaw
Summary: "[...], the cone cells begin to work properly, allowing the human in question to perceive color for the first time. Unless that human happens to be a blonde computer genius from Nevada who moonlights as a crime fighter. Enter Felicity Smoak." Or: In a world where everyone sees in black-and-white before they meet their soulmate, Felicity has always seen in color.


**AN: Oy, it's done.**

**The science I used came from good ol' Wikipedia and is total bullshit. Contains spoilers for 3x09 and 3x10.**

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When it comes down to it, finding your soulmate is just a product of biology.

Pheromones are a common feature in all life, from the one-celled prokaryotes to the complex, multicellular eukaryotes. They are nature's voiceless way of signaling information about one organism to another of the same species, such as alarm or territory or fertility. Organisms use these pheromones to identify the most preferential mate of the same species. Males look for females that can successfully bear their children and pass on their genetic code; females look for males that can provide protection for them and their offspring. Both secrete sex pheromones in order to find the best baby-making partner.

This is where soulmates come in.

Because pheromones are odorless to the weak human nose, evolution developed a new way for _homo sapiens sapiens_ to determine the best possible mate. When a human finds the greatest match to produce children with, the pheromones detected tells their brain to begin the process of isomerization, the changing of one molecule into another, by light inside the cone cells of the human retina. This isomerization triggers a change in the protein that activates photopsin, a protein found in the cone cells that is the basis for color vision. As photopsins are produced and bind to G protein transducin, the cone cells begin to work properly, allowing the human in question to perceive color for the first time.

Unless that human happens to be a blonde computer genius from Nevada who moonlights as a crime fighter.

Enter Felicity Smoak.

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Felicity has been able to see colors from birth, but her parents only learn this fact when she begins to talk. Donna is standing in the middle of the toy isle of Kmart when it happens, trying to balance a squirming thirteen month-old on her hip while balancing herself in the five inch platforms she wears for work. Scanning the shelves of brightly colored animals, she shifts Felicity up and asks the baby, "Which one should we get?" Her cousin's baby shower is next weekend, and Donna totally dropped the ball on getting gifts between work and raising her own child.

Said child wiggles around a little and points at a teddy bear. "Pink."

Donna pauses. The bear is pink, but there is no way Felicity actually knows what she is saying, no matter how clever her baby girl is. "That's right, honey, pink." Donna started seeing color when she was nineteen and the bright color is one of her favorites. Felicity probably heard her mother referring to something as pink and just remembered the word.

The little girl notices a different toy, a blue one this time, and points at it. "Blue."

Donna furrows her brow. Picking up a lime colored fish, she holds it up to her daughter. "What color is this, baby?"

Felicity lets out a garbled, "Green."

Her mother begins picking up other plush toys, quizzing the baby on other colors. Red, yellow, purple. Felicity can recognize them all. Donna rushes out of the store, completely forgetting to purchase a gift.

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After a CT scan and several days of testing reveal nothing, the doctors recommend a pediatric ophthalmologist in Reno. Perhaps, they tell Donna and her soulmate, the problem is with Felicity's eyes. The family drives six hours to the hospital, where the doctor manages to keep the squirming baby still long enough to inform the couple that the problem has to do with Felicity's cone cells.

"It may be genetic," the kindly woman explains. "Her genes may not be coded to suppress her color vision like the rest of us."

"And how will that affect her ability to find her soulmate" inquires Felicity's father, stroking his daughter's feathery, dark hair.

"Well," Dr. Jacobi sighs, " It could be that her soulmate is similarly afflicted. Or they might still see in black-and-white and will begin to see color when they meet her, like usual. Or— and this might be difficult to hear— your daughter might not have a soulmate."

They drive home that night, Felicity asleep in the backseat, the young parents clutching each other's hand in the front. "Our girl's just special, that's all," her father tells Donna, "Doesn't need someone else to make her happy. Can do it all by herself."

Donna will remind her daughter of his words years after he leaves.

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(When Felicity and her mom are at JC Penny's buying her prom dress, Donna tells her to get the midnight blue dress because the color looks good on her, and Felicity realizes that her mother has it worse than her. Felicity might not even have a soulmate, but Donna has one who left her.)

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Cooper Sheldon tells Felicity he never really knew the color black until he met her.

"I thought I knew," he mumbles into the soft skin of her neck, making her shiver a tiny bit, "I thought it was this flat, dull color that I saw everyday."

"And now," Felicity questions, "How is it different?" She sits between his legs on her dorm bed, trying to finish her Advanced Algorithms homework. His chest presses against her back as he scoops some dark hair from one shoulder and onto the other. Felicity reaches back to card her fingers through his hair in kind.

His teeth scrape the junction between her neck and shoulder. "It's shiny for one," Cooper says gruffly, "And in the sunlight, it almost looks blue, like a clear night sky." He pushes her tank top strap to the side and presses a kiss on her exposed shoulder blade. "No one told me that skin was pink, not paper white. Or that it could be caramel or chocolate or ebony." Felicity bites her lip and worries it between her teeth. She really needs to get this homework done, but instead she interrupts her soulmate's poetics for a more physical activity.

(She called her mother the day she met Cooper and Donna Smoak burst into tears. "Oh, baby," she blubbers, talking loudly over the noise in the casino. "I'm so happy for you."

Felicity thinks her mother could have sounded a little less relieved.)

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Cooper, who loved her black hair, who adored her blue eyes, who relished her pale skin, kills himself in prison.

The colors of her world do not fade, but they get a bit dimmer in her eyes.

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("Felicity Smoak? Hi, I'm Oliver Queen.")

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Oliver Queen's blood stains her hands scarlet as Felicity and John Diggle lift him onto the table and it will stain her hands a disturbing number of times again over the next two years. She is there to stitch his wounds and mend his wounds, but she never asks him if he can see colors because somethings are private.

Sure, Felicity thinks about it.

She thinks for a while that perhaps Sara is Oliver's soulmate until Nyssa shows up in Starling. The way they talk through glances, the way their words are filled with understanding, the way they relax around each other. They all seemed like big clues to something more.

Or maybe that mysterious Shado woman he mentioned once or twice.

(Maybe his soulmate is Isabel.)

(Yuck.)

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While they're dancing— or rather, swaying— Barry asks, "What color is your dress?"

Felicity flushes. "Pink."

Barry hums. "Very fitting. Matches your personality."

"How would you know," she teases, moving gently with him across the dance floor.

"My mom used to describe colors to me," her date explains, "Or, at least, what they reminded her of. So, yellow was the feeling of the sun on your back, or green was the smell of grass. And she told me pink was the taste of bubble gum. Dubble Bubble, specifically."

"Barry," Felicity whispers as the music ends and the couple stops dancing, "That's beautiful."

He shrugs and bows his head, turning a little pink himself."What can I say, I'm sentimental."

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After the madness of Slade's attempt to destroy the city dies down, Felicity finds herself sitting alone on the steps of the stairs to the Foundry. Oliver left with ARGUS to contain Slade while they decide what to do with the murderous cyclops.

(Okay, so Slade Wilson is not, in fact, a cyclops, but after being kidnapped and threatened by the crazy man, Felicity feels a little mean.)

She wonders if there is a difference between a cyclops and someone who had two eyes but lost one, but she gets distracted when Nyssa sits down next to her on the steps. "Hi," Felicity awkwardly begins, not exactly sure what the master assassin wants.

"Tell me Felicity," Nyssa questions, "Do you see in color?"

"Um, yes. I found my soulmate in college. Well, I could see color before that too, which is kind of a long story involving stuffed animals..." Felicity fades off.

"You met Oliver in college?"

Felicity feels her eyebrows leap clear off her forehead. "What! No! No no no! I'm not- I mean- We're not soulmates! No!" Shaking her head for emphasis, her blonde ponytail whips around furiously.

"Are you sure? I saw the way he gazed at you," Nyssa teases, smiling pike the cat who swallowed the canary. (Yes, Felicity realizes this is a terrible pun.)

"Yeah, totally sure!" Felicity rushes, "I mean, I couldn't tell because I can see colors, but Oliver would have totally told me."

"So, who is your soulmate," Nyssa ruminates, shifting to better rest her back on the step behind her.

Felicity gulps. "He died."

Nyssa glances at her sharply. "I am sorry, Ms. Smoak. I know the pain I felt when Sara almost died from the venom." The older woman follows her soulmate with her eyes as Sara crosses the Foundry to talk to Roy before she turns back to Felicity. "And still your colors did not fade?"

"Nope." Felicity rubs her sweaty palms against her pants, trying to think of a way out of this thoroughly uncomfortable situation.

"I met a man with a similar case to yours when I was studying under my father," Nyssa ruminates. Felicity feels her brow furrow. She has never seen a case like her own anywhere else in the world, and believe her, she looked. "He was a wise man from the Kashmir region who could meditate for days on end without food or water or sleep. My father sent me to him to learn patience. When I arrived, the wise man told me the red embroidery on my coat was the loveliest he had ever seen. I was shocked, for he had no soulmate. I asked him how he knew these colors, and he told me, 'The world is my love. I need no other.'"

Felicity's mouth feels as dry as a desert. "That's nice."

Before Nyssa can say anything else, the door to the Foundry opens. Felicity stands up quickly to get out of the way for Oliver and Diggle, but not before turning back to Nyssa to say, "Great talk."

(She pretends to sleep for most of the flight to Lian Yu, thinking seriously about what Nyssa said. Felicity's thoughts keep circling back to how Oliver totally _does not_ gaze at her.

Okay, maybe he gazes a little.)

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"Yeah, I was chewing a pen."

"It was red."

Felicity is so busy freaking out that she is on a date with Oliver she completely misses this tidbit. In the shower later that night, she watches the blood and soot and grime swirl down the drain. "It was red," Felicity mutters, scrubbing her hands over her face. Uh oh, Spaghetti-o.

Felicity makes the executive decision to not think about the implications of the red pen.

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(Truth: Oliver Queen is a hell of a kisser and all, but for that brief moment before reality crashes back in, the only thing Felicity can think is how clear and blue his eyes are.)

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Cooper, who loved her black hair, who adored her blue eyes, who relished her pale skin, is alive and pointing a gun at her.

"Blonde doesn't suit you, Felicity," he whispers menacingly in her ear.

"Really," she bites back, "Because asshole suits you perfectly."

Cooper gives her a grin that makes her stomach roll. "Somehow I'm not surprised you moved on so quickly," he taunts, "You were always the fickle one." Oh, yes, the ancient argument that she, as someone who had seen colors her whole life, did not have the same appreciation for their soul bond like he did. They went round after round in college, refusing talk to one another for days before having awesome makeup sex.

Felicity is furious. "I thought you were dead! I was mourning you while you were off playing Secret Agent Man. I am not the one in the wrong here!"

"Whatever," Cooper sneers and motions the gun at her, "Just get it done."

Some soulmate.

(Back at her apartment, Felicity cries for hours into her mother's shoulder, and Donna, ditzy though she may be, keeps telling her, "You don't need a soulmate to be happy. You more than anyone else, baby girl." It helps a little.)

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Despite her earlier visit to Central City, Felicity and Barry only get to talking about his soulmate conundrum in the aftermath of Rainbow Raider's transformation of her darling forensic assistant into a real jerk. Barry runs her hands through his short hair, making it stick up. "She hates me."

"She knows you didn't mean it," Felicity soothes, rubbing his back. Barry and Caitlin's soulbond was a new form of complicated that Felicity had never before encountered. Having one soulmate die only to find a new one who was in a coma before her colors even faded must have been rough on the woman. "It's just still really painful for her."

"It's just," Barry sighed, "She never talks about him. Not on purpose, anyway. And I'm trying to be understanding and supportive, but she just refuses my help." He pulls his knees up to his chest and Felicity shifts on the floor next him so she can cross her legs a little more comfortably.

Slinging an arm around her friend, she says, "Barry, let me tell you a little secret about women." Felicity looks to make sure he is paying attention. "Caitlin doesn't need you to solve anything. She's grieving. When the time comes and she wants to talk to you about Ronnie, all she'll want is someone to listen."

Barry nods and then cocks his head to the side. "Did you? When your soulmate, um, passed? Want to talk to someone?"

Felicity sucks in a deep breath. "Eventually. It was hard, though, because my colors didn't fade like other peoples. I felt really alone for a really long time."

"I just want for her to feel better," Barry laments. "I hate that she's in pain and I can't do anything. I'm a horrible soulmate"

"Oh, Barry," Felicity laughs softly, "You're the best soulmate I know."

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("It's just that when I kissed you, Felicity," explains Ray, "I could have sworn your dress was blue.")

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"And the second thing?" Felicity knows she's playing with fire, but she just has to ask..

Oliver looks at her in a way that could be interpreted as warm and loving, but she thinks is just a touch too sad. "You're my soulmate."

There it is. That thing she dreads most in the world.

His words leave her cold. "Wha—"

"I knew the moment I stepped into your office," Oliver continues. "And the world just filled with color. But you didn't react, so I just kept talking, but all I could focus on was your red pen and how wonderfully alive that color was in your hands." He sighs before he continues. "And I kept coming back even though I knew I should have left you alone. Because you make me better and you make my world so much brighter."

"Why didn't you tell me," Felicity demands, leaning against the table for support as her knees wobble because she suspected, yes, but she did not dare believe

"I wanted to keep you safe." Oliver takes a step forward into her personal space to brush his hand across her cheek. "I have enemies, Felicity, more than you can realize, and if they can get to you, they can get to me."

Those clear, blue eyes bore into her own. "You don't think you're coming back. That's why you're telling me all of this. You want me to know in case you _die_."

"I want you to know," Oliver murmurs, "Because I love you." Moving in, he kisses her forehead firmly before separating from their shared space. He picks up his bag and leaves without looking back. The place where he kissed her burns red hot.

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The sword Merlyn brings them is short and thick and most of the blade is burgundy. Felicity thinks for a moment that she has never seen a red sword before Malcolm places it in her hands. The blood is dry and crusted and flakey, and she knows it is blood not by the color, but by the metallic smell so strong Felicity can almost taste it. "I'm sorry," Malcolm Merlyn says, "Oliver Queen is dead."

Felicity's stomach heaves and she all but chucks the sword onto the nearest table.

Later, Diggle finds her cradling the weapon next to the fern. "Felicity, go home," he tells her, prying the sword from her arms. She sniffs and rubs her nose. She started crying after Roy stormed out in a furious blur, going in search of a strong drink and something to punch.

"The way my eyes work, my colors won't fade," Felicity hiccups. Digg rubs her back soothingly which just makes her feel worse. "I wish they would. I don't want them without him." A sob wracks her body, causing her to violently shake, and Diggle wraps her up in his arms, good and tight.

He takes her home to Lyla and Sara, and they drink too much. Lyla puts some sheets down on the couch and tucks Felicity in despite being only six years older than Felicity herself. After the couple falls asleep, she sneaks into Sara's room.

"See this, Sara," Felicity whispers, pointing to a shape on the girl's mobile. "This is blue. And this is red. And this is green." She talks herself to sleep, murmuring her colors.

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(Life, surprisingly, goes on.)

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"Seriously, though, next time I volunteer to be bait, ignore me, " Felicity mutters into the small microphone attached to her scarf. She scuttles as fast as she can through the back alley, repressing the overwhelming urge to run. Seven girls have been kidnapped in the Glades this year, all from varying socioeconomic backgrounds. Their only connection to one another was their preference in nail salons, specifically Wellington's Salon and Spa, one of the few salons left in the Glades since The Undertaking. Felicity rubs her thumb against the smooth nail of her ring finger. Despite the creepy undertones of her visit, the salon did give an excellent manicure.

Scanning over her shoulder as she walked, Felicity turns her head and freezes. The figure of a man fills the end of the alleyway, and when she glances behind her, the shapes of two more move from the way she came. "I've got company," she murmurs into her scarf. Over the mic, she can hear Roy grunting as he leaps off a rooftop.

Felicity attempts to just pass the approaching man, but he sticks his arm out, blocking her path. "Excuse me," she says weakly, trying to resist panic.

"Hey, baby," the skeevy dude asks, "Where you goin'?"

She tries to push his arm away, but he bands it around her waist. "Let me go," Felicity demands, voice betraying her fear.

"What do we have here," someone questions behind her, and Felicity twists her head in an attempt to see her attackers' faces as she is grabbed from behind. What she ends up seeing, however, is the shaft of an arrow bury itself into the large man's shoulder.

"What the-" one of the men gets out before a black figure spins down from the sky on a rope of black silk. Taking advantage of the distraction, Felicity throws her head back to recieve a satisfying crunch from her attacker's nose. She elbows her way out of the fray and falls to the side just as the figure in black reaches the group of men. Subduing them is short work for the mysterious fighter who, despite leaving the men alive, does not leave them better than he found them.

Felicity pushes herself to her feet and takes stock of the situation. "Thanks," she stutters, "You know. For that."

The black figure turns towards her, and even in the darkness, Felicity sees the twinkle of eyes between the dark hood and face covering. Biting her lip, Felicity starts, "Look, my friends are coming, and while I appreciate you saving my life, they're not exactly big fans of the League, so you better skedaddle before they get here."

The figure does not move.

"You know, skedaddle," Felicity continues awkwardly, "Vamanos. Get a move on."

Nothing.

"Look, pal-" she says irritably because tonight has been less than stellar, but before she can really get on a role, the mysterious man steps closer to her. Instinctively, she moves back. Felicity straightens her spine and looks the figure in the eyes, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

She stops.

The eyes that peek out of the mask are exact replicas of the blue eyes Felicity spent weeks committing to memory in the aftermath of Oliver's death. A clear, strong blue that looks like the sky on a spring day when the grass is green and the sun is shining. Felicity reaches a trembling hand up to tug down the black cloth that covers the figure's face.

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(When it comes down to it, finding your soulmate is just a product of biology. But soulmates' ability to sense one another, to remain connected over time and distance, to survive the worst by just relying on each other... well, that is just magical.)

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The truth is Felicity Smoak does not need a soulmate to be happy. Her soul is far too big and far too full to need another person to complete it. It is so big, in fact, that she can share it with many different people, people who need it more than she does. Maybe that is why Felicity draws in so many broken souls, all desperately searching, needing that shining light in the dark night when all seems hopeless. Someday, she might find another person who needs her, and she will be there every step of the way, no matter how painful because that is who Felicity is.

No, Felicity Smoak does not need a soulmate to be happy.

(But it doesn't hurt to have one in the slightest.)

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**Find me at .com/**


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